A Study In Cats
by holmesbrothers
Summary: What really happened after Moriarty's phone conversation in The Great Game? What ill happen when Seb lets Jim get a cat, but John doesn't let Sherlock get one?


(Inspiration came from this post;  post/15227614472. Read post before reading fic.)

As soon as he got the call, Jim left and headed straight to Petco. Sebastian said that he could keep the kitten, but only if he brought home the right supplies. He tapped his foot excitedly, wondering what he would name it. Finally he arrived at Petco. Grabbing a shopping basket, he ran through the store, glancing at products. He decided on a light blue fluffy cat bed, Purina cat chow, and a green litter box. He bought the items and drove back to his flat happily. When he walked through the door, Sebastian was watching the telly, 'Dancing with the stars'. A meowing noise wafted through the air and a small orange tabby brushed up against his leg. He reached down, picking it up.

"Aww, just look at him!" He crooned. Sebastian snorted. Jim glared at him.

"What? Do you not approve?" Jim asked, irritated. Sebastian looked up.

"And what if I don't?" he grunted. Jim set down the cat, which he had decided to name Sir Fluffalufigus, and walked around to the telly. He shoved it over, disconnecting the wires.

"Wha-?! I was watching that!" Sebastian shouted.

"Well Sir Fluffalufigus needs attention, and you're just sitting on your butt watching TV!" Jim yelled, holding out the cat.

"Sir Fluffalufigus? THAT'S what you're calling it?" Sebastian asked, stifling laughter. Jim pouted.

"Yes!" he said proudly.

"I'm going to bed!" he added as he walked towards his bedroom.

"Hey, Jimbo-when you asked me to move in and be your evil mastermind assistant, you said we were gonna have sleepovers!" Sebastian said, stopping him.

"We have, Seb," he said, dumbfounded. Sebastian sighed.

"Me sleeping on the floor while you sleep in your bed is NOT a sleepover. I mean a sleepover like we sleep in sleeping bags, outside, in a tent!" he explained. Jim slapped his hand onto his forehead.

"As I was saying, I'm going to bed," he said, resuming his walk to his bedroom. He laid down in his bed and closed his eyes, trying to block out the noises of Sebastian. Finally, sleep overtook him.

"Where is the cat?!" Jim screamed. Sebastian's eyes widened, then he scratched his head.

"I said, where is he?! What have you done with him?!" Sebastian gulped, then pointed to the ceiling. Jim glared at him.

"WHY DID YOU KILL SIR FLUFFALUFIGUS?! WHAT DID HE EVER DO TO YOU?!" Jim roared.

"No, Jimbo, he died on his own accords! I didn't kill him! Even though i wanted to, the little idiot..." Sebastian said.

"Uh-huh...cat murderer!" Jim yelled. Sebastian looked at him with an annoyed expression.

"You kill people everyday! You're a 'consulting criminal!" Sebastian protested.

"Ah ah ah, that's not how you say it. Pass it over the tongue: CONSULTING CRIMINAL," Jim instructed. Sebastian sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Consulting criminal," he muttered. Jim shook his head.

"Try it again."

"Fine...consulting criminal."

"No no no no, use a lightly higher tone on the 'i' in criminal."

"Consulting criminal."

"There you go. Now you got it." Sebastian sighed, wiping his face with his hand. He didn't know what he was going to do with Jim. Jim brushed off his shoulders, then looked Sebastian in the eyes. His look became cold.

"Now, down to business again...WHY DID YOU KILL MY CAT?!" Jim screamed. Sebastian moaned, rubbing his ears.

"I DIDN'T! I didn't kill your bloody cat! It got hit by a car!" he replied. Jim turned away, crossing his arms.

"...I bet JOHN doesn't try to kill SHERLOCK'S cats," he said, pouting.

"Oh no, not this again..." Sebastian groaned.

"And I bet he doesn't hate Sherlock, either," Jim added. Sebastian just ignored him.

"You know I even bet he goes to the grocery store once in a while!" he finished with a flourish of his hand. Sebastian just switched on the TV.

"But you know what? You're gonna buy me a new cat."

"WHAT?!" Sebastian screamed, wheeling around. Jim nodded.

"Mm-hmm. And it has to be the same color," he added. Sebastian glared at his shoes.

"No."

"Just tell me one thing-who pays for this flat?" Jim asked.

"You do," Sebastian sighed.

"And who makes you dinner?"

"...You do."

"And who pays your TV bills?"

"Alright, I get it, you do!" Sebastian growled, getting up. Jim looked at him.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Sebastian lumbered over to the door.

"To Petco," he answered grumpily.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT BAKER STREET:

"BUT JOHN."

"Sherlock," John said with a dramatic sigh, "I said no. You can barely take care of yourself, let alone an entire cat."

Sherlock glanced back at John hopefully. "Can I have half a cat then?"

"No."

Sherlock angrily flopped down onto the couch and glared at his flatmate. "I want a cat."

"No. You can't get a cat. There's no way you'd take care of it properly, and it would just end up as some weird experiment."

"I promise it wouldn't," Sherlock begged. "I wouldn't even bring my microscope near it. I promise promise promise. Please? Please, John?"

He sighed again. "No. That's final."

Sherlock huffed and rolled over so he was facing the TV instead of John.

After fifteen minutes of yelling at the crap telly, he got an idea and rolled back around. "I bet Sebastian let Jim get a cat."

"Not this again," John said tiredly. "Sebastian's also a sniper, and Jim's a consulting criminal."

Sherlock pondered that for a second. "I'm getting the feeling you used the wrong emphasis on that, Johnny-Dude."

"THAT'S DOCTOR JOHNNY-DUDE TO YOU."

Sherlock rolled angrily back around, as he always did when John enforced his smart-ass title. "You're mean."

"Sherlock, don't be like that."

Sherlock hopped up onto the coffee table and started singing about how he does what he wants.

"Sherlock! STAWP!"

"If I stop, can I get a kitten?" Sherlock asked tauntingly, shaking his hips like Shakira.

"No."

"JAWN!"

He sighed. "Fine. You win. We can get a bloody kitten."

Sherlock jumped off the table and tackled John. "THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!"

After managing to shove Sherlock off, John went to make tea. "Do you really think Sebastian let Jim get a cat?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

"Well... yeah. Seb is actually NICE to Jimmy."

John narrowed his Doctor Eyes at Sherlock. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"He probably doesn't bother Jim about buying milk," Sherlock said casually, plopping back down on the couch.

It was John's turn to huff. "Do you want a kitten or not?"

"Yes."

"THEN STOP BEING MEAN!" HE ROARED.

"FINE."

"What are you going to name it?"

Sherlock thought for a second. "Sir... Flufilufigus. Yeah. I bet NOBODY has a cat named Sir Flufilufigus!"


End file.
